


I Want My Body Back

by PrettyKitty93



Series: Bodyswap [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Bodyswap, Developing Relationship, Eventual relationship, Lust, M/M, M/M kissing, Secret Crush, Secret Relationship, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:46:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyKitty93/pseuds/PrettyKitty93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John have an argument which causes them to switch bodies.<br/>But when they swap back, will they get more than just a better understanding of the other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Switch

**Author's Note:**

> So I had a really crazy idea of body-swapping. A bit like Boy Meets Girl (Martin Freeman and Racheal Stirling).  
> Simply summary of it for those who haven't seen it; Danny Reed (Martin Freeman) is directionless and dissatisfied with his lot in life. Working at a DIY superstore, he vents his frustrations on the customers when not pining for his co-worker Fiona, or foisting his encyclopedic knowledge of useless information onto loyal friend Pete.  
> He is a world away from the successful and vivacious Veronica (Rachael Stirling), whose job as a glamorous fashion journalist provides her with a well-stocked bank account and an even better-stocked social calendar.  
> Worshipped by her devoted boyfriend, Jay, Veronica seems to have it all. When a freak accident traps the mismatched strangers in each other's bodies, the results are not pretty.  
> As Danny and Veronica struggle with their new identities they begin to discover new truths about themselves. But besides learning to walk in high heels or being forced to 'slum it' with the working classes, the pair long to get back to their own bodies and, ultimately, their old lives.

“For God's sake, Sherlock! Stop shooting the bloody wall!” John exclaims loudly, having been woken up in the early hours of the morning for the fourth time this week.

“I'm bored, John!” Sherlock shouts back, completely ignorant of the time or John's worn and tired appearance.

“I don't care, Sherlock! _People_ are trying to _sleep_.” John replies, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“What time is it?” Sherlock actually whispers, suddenly noticing John's tired demeanour.

“Four am, Sherlock.” John sighs, slumping into his chair.

“Right.” Sherlock replies simply, “You should go back to bed then, John.” He adds, waving the doctor away.

“I _would_ if I could actually _sleep._ ” John growls through gritted teeth.

“Goodnight, John.” Sherlock replies, throwing an arm over his face dramatically.

John sighs before getting up and leaving the room, “I wish you understood.” He adds bitterly, closing the door behind him.

“As do I, John.” Sherlock replies to the empty room, placing the gun down.

He looks out the window as a shooting star passes by and sighs dramatically, turning over to face the back of the couch.

“Pain in the arse. I wish he would just _sleep_ like a _normal_ person. He doesn't understand.” John mutters to himself, crawling back into bed and trying to get back to sleep. “Why did I have to be set up with the none-sleeping, wall-shooting sociopath?”

John chuckles to himself despite his exhaustion.

“Well, maybe he's done for the night.” He sighs softly, finally drifting off to sleep.

x..x

John groans as he wakes up, his back playing up again; which surprises him greatly.

“Great, backache due to the sociopath keeping me up all night.” John grumbles softly, rolling over and falling to the floor. “What the hell? When did I end up on the couch? And why the hell am I wearing Sherlock's robe?”

“John!” Sherlock exclaims, interrupting John's thoughts.

“What? Wait, that's my voice. Sherlock?”

“Um, John, we have a problem.” Sherlock replies, entering the room.

“Yeah, we do. Like, why am I looking at myself?!” John asks, then realises his voice sounds oddly like Sherlock's.

He looks up at the mirror across the room, “Oh my God.” The doctor replies, bringing his, well, Sherlock's hands up to Sherlock's face. “What did you do, Sherlock!” He exclaims, looking at Sherlock, well, Sherlock in his body.

“Me? I didn't do anything! Why would you think it's me?!” Sherlock exclaims, storming over to John.

“We've obviously switched bodies and who's the _genius_ who likes _experimenting_ all the time?”

“This wasn't me, John. I swear.”

“Then who was it?”

“I don't know. But, logically, it must be for a reason.”

“And what reason is that?”

“What did we say last night?” Sherlock asks, bringing his hands up to his 'new' face, rubbing the temples.

“Don't do that. I hate it when you do that. And I hate it even more now on my body.”

“I need to think, John.” Sherlock replies, rubbing his temples.

“Stop it!”

“Sherlock. John. Is everything okay, dears?” Mrs Hudson calls up the stairs worriedly.

“We're fine, Mrs Hudson. Thank you.” John replies automatically, forgetting he's now in Sherlock's body.

“Oh, you're very polite today, Sherlock. Had a good night's sleep, did you?” Mrs Hudson smiles, now entering the room.

“I did actually. After I'd finished shooting the wall and keeping John up. And I'm very sorry if I woke you up, Mrs Hudson.” John smiles, before receiving a glare from Sherlock (John's face).

“Aww, thank you, dear. Well, I stayed at Beverley's last night so I wouldn't have heard.”

“John.” Sherlock snaps, glaring darkly at the doctor (in Sherlock's body).

_Wow, is that really what I look like when I'm angry?_ John thinks, confusion furrowing his brow.

“John, are you alright,dear?” Mrs Hudson asks softly, turning to the doctor.

“Yes, I'm fine.” John replies softly, before mentally scolding himself. “I mean, of course John's fine, Mrs Hudson. I think he's just tired. Would you mind getting us some tea, please.”

“Just this once, dear, I'm not your housekeeper.” Mrs Hudson smiles softly, patting Sherlock's shoulder.

As soon as the woman leaves, John looks at Sherlock, well, himself and whispers, “Sherlock, I think we're going to be stuck like this for a bit. We need to work something out. You're going to have to be me and, well, vice versa.”

“Well, that should be easy. I'll just stare gormlessly at crime scenes and proclaim _excellent_ and _brilliant_ at everything.” Sherlock snaps, still glaring at John.

“And I'll just stride around like an insufferable prick, proclaiming how clever I am and no one can live up to my brilliance.” John snaps back, resting his hands on his hips.

“I don't do _that_!” Sherlock exclaims, gesturing at his hand on his hips.

“Oh, don't you? I'm sorry, I'm too stupid to know how you think or even _stand_.”

“Yes, but you have eyes. How many times have you _seen_ me do that?” Sherlock replies, putting John's hands on his hips.

“Wow, you two have been living together too long.” A voice says from the door, both men turn and look at Lestrade.

“Hey, Greg. Got a case?”

“Um, Sherlock, when did you start calling me _Greg_?” The older man asks incredulously, raising an eyebrow.

“Right. Lestrade, what boring case do you require my assistance for? You know I don't leave the flat for anything less than an eight.” John snaps, causing Sherlock to glare at him.

“Ah, that's better. I think. Anyway, got a triple homicide.” Lestrade replies gravely.

“Ooh, yes, triple homicide. Did you hear that, John? Let's go shall we?” John mocks, bouncing up and down.

“I don't know how you put up with him, John.”

“Yes, I know. I must be _desperate_.” Sherlock replies, glaring at John.

“I'm not desperate!” John snaps, ceasing his bouncing.

“Right, this is getting weird again. I'll leave you two to get dressed. I'll text you the address, Sherlock.”

“Thank you, Gr … Lestrade.” John replies, still glaring at (himself) Sherlock.

“Right, bye.” Lestrade replies, walking out the door.

“I'm not desperate! If anyone's _desperate_ , it's you, Sherlock.” John accuses, pointing Sherlock's long fingers at his former body.

“I seem to remember that it was _you_ who needed a flat-share, not me.” Sherlock snaps back angrily.

“You didn't object to it, as I _recall_.”

“Fine … Is this what we usually do?” Sherlock asks suddenly.

“Yes. Well, I try to talk to you but _you_ just ignore me.”

“Oh.”

“Boys, what's going on?” Mrs Hudson asks gently, re-entering the room with tea and biscuits.

Sherlock looks at her for a moment, “Sorry, Mrs Hudson. Me and Sherlock were just talking some things out.” He replies in John's genuinely apologetic voice.

John looks at Sherlock curiously, eyebrow raising at how easily he'd slipped into John's calming demeanour.

Sherlock gives him a look back as if to say, “We need to make this work.” which John returns with a slight nod.

“Yes, apologies, Mrs Hudson. We'll be off soon. Triple homicide.” John beams Sherlock's signature, new case grin.

“Oh, Sherlock, still being indecent about murders. It's not nice.” Mrs Hudson admonishes gently, giving him a slight smile and patting his arm.

“Thank you for the tea and biscuits, Mrs Hudson.” Sherlock replies, giving her John's appreciative smile.

“Well, I'll leave you two to fill yourselves up and get dressed. Enjoy the case, boys.”

“Right, well, this is going to be awkward.” John replies, looking his new body up and down.

“Oh, don't worry, John. I won't look.” Sherlock replies, somehow managing his own smirk on John's face.

John rolls his eyes before heading to his bedroom, Sherlock following behind to go his room.

“John!” John shouts to the other man, not sure if Mrs Hudson is still in.

As usual, Sherlock picks up on this and walks to the bottom of the stairs, “Yes, Sherlock?”

John stands at the top of the stairs and raises his eyebrow.

“Oh, of course.” Sherlock grins, running up the stairs past John.

John chuckles before running down the stairs to Sherlock's room. He pulls open the wardrobe and looks at the variety of the younger man's suits in awe. Then he notices in the corner is a well used, slightly worn grey cardigan, John smiles softly at the thought of an even younger Sherlock wearing his usual shirt and trousers with the grey cardie thrown over the top.

He pulls out a shirt and some darkish blue trousers, as well as the grey cardie and lays them on the bed. He tries to avoid looking in the mirror as he strips his flat-mate's clothes off himself but his eyes glance up as he pulls the t-shirt off and he gasps in surprise.

For all his lanky legs and skinny frame, Sherlock is actually well built in the chest area. He isn't chubbing out like John, Sherlock has quite an impressive six pack under his _extremely_ tight shirts. John tilts his head slightly; which looks obscure because it's Sherlock's head he sees tilt in the mirror as he looks at himself. Then suddenly John realises that he _shouldn't_ be looking at Sherlock's body like this; so _up close_ and slightly _lustfully_.

John shakes his head at the last word; he does _not_ fancy Sherlock, he's straight and Sherlock's married to his work.

He quickly strips off the pyjama bottoms and pulls on the trousers; making sure not to glance at Sherlock's slight erection caused by John's wandering thoughts.

_I'll have to picture something horrible and disgusting to get rid of that_. _Dead bodies, mutilations, triple homicide, bloody, brain matter …_ _Okay, that'll do._ John thinks, shaking himself a little as he starts to feel a little sick at the images entering his mind.

He pulls on the shirt and throws the cardie on over the top, glancing at his new reflection in the mirror before heading out of the bedroom.

“John! Hurry up.”

Sherlock makes a noise from John's bedroom before standing at the top of the stairs.

“I'm not going out in that!” John replies, looking at the attire Sherlock has put on his body.

“Well, I'm not going out like that! I look like a bloody headmaster!” Sherlock growls, glaring at John's choice of attire.

“Get down here and we'll sort something out, bring some jumpers too.” John replies, rolling his eyes and going back into Sherlock's bedroom.

Sherlock appears in his bedroom five minutes later, holding a stack of jumpers and even a pair of jeans.

“Right. No, no, no, why would you even pick this up? No. This one.” John finally smiles, holding up his favourite blue striped jumper; having thrown the rest on the floor.

“Hm, I always liked this one on you.” Sherlock whispers, more to himself than John.

“What?” John asks, snapping his head up from inside the wardrobe.

“I said it's a nice jumper.”

“Oh, okay. Um, what about this one? It looks … nice.” John asks awkwardly, holding up a blue suit with orange stitching that created squares all over it.

Sherlock makes a face in response, shaking his head furiously.

“Sherlock, it's a nice suit. I think the blue and orange will really bring out your eyes.” John whispers the last part, holding the suit up to himself to inspect in the mirror.

“What?” Sherlock asks, looking back up at John.

“Nothing. Just mumbling.” John replies, smiling briefly at Sherlock.

“So, should I go back upstairs, or ...” Sherlock asks awkwardly.

“Well, technically we're both looking at our own bodies and we've _technically_ seen each other naked. Or did you get dressed in the dark?” John grins, cocking his head slightly.

“No. But I didn't exactly _look_ either.” Sherlock whispers, looking at the floor.

“Oh.” John whispers, turning around so Sherlock won't see a blush on those gorgeous cheekbones.

John blushes even more and quickly picks up the suit.

“You're right. That suit does look good on me.” Sherlock smiles as John finishes buttoning up the shirt.

“I suppose the tie would be going too far?” John asks, looking at his new, really-his-flatmate's, figure in the mirror.

“Yes. Now, come here.” Sherlock replies, walking over to John to straighten out his shirt and fold down the collar.

John manages to suppress a shiver as he sees his own hands gently touch his flatmate's shoulders; straightening out the creases in the shirt.

Sherlock's eyes lock with John's (well his own) and he coughs awkwardly before standing back, “There. Much better.” He smiles, trying not to meet John's eyes again.

“Um, thanks. Oh, I don't roll my sleeves up.” John replies, pulling the sleeves of his jumper back down; his fingers sliding over his former arms gently.

Sherlock gulps quietly, watching as John rolls the sleeves back down before stepping back.

“John, you _should_ know that I … I usually take my coat, and sometimes my jacket off at the morgue, and obviously I stare intently at the body. I can give you my observations by way of whispers and you can do the same with me.” Sherlock whispers, looking at the floor.

John doesn't know whether to feel disappointed at the obvious dismissal of the attraction they both feel, or relieved that Sherlock is _not_ making it obvious. But there was no denying the acceleration of Sherlock's pulse under John's fingertips as he rolled down those sleeves. He is a doctor after all.

“Let's go and fool the world then.” John smiles, walking out of Sherlock's bedroom and picking up his coat before throwing it to Sherlock.

“Do you think we can do this?” Sherlock asks nervously, putting on John's coat.

“Just so long as you remember that I'm the nice one out of the two of us.” John replies, a little smirk gracing his features.

“Fine. Just so long as _you_ remember that I don't mollycoddle anyone.” Sherlock replies, opening the door.

“Yeah, like that's hard to remember.” John chuckles, following Sherlock out the front door.


	2. A Curious Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade has a theory and consults Mycroft of all people.  
> But could Lestrade been mistaken or could he have discovered something that even Sherlock and John don't realise?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, guys. But extra long chapter for you. And only one chapter left. I may do something else in the Body Swap Universe but not sure yet xxxxxx
> 
> P.S thank you to Kelouisa who pointed out my spelling mistake for rigor mortis. That's been corrected now. I was super tired and it was late so my brain wasn't functioning properly, apologies xxxxx

The boys walk a little way down the street so they can both break in their new bodies.

“John, you're so short. How do you manage with these little legs?” Sherlock asks curiously, looking up at John.

“Oh, I'm sorry, if I'd have known we were going to switch bodies I would have drunk some growth juice.” John replies, rolling his eyes.

“I thought you were the _nice_ one.” Sherlock retorts sarcastically, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You started it.” John mutters, looking around for a taxi.

He stops suddenly and raises his arm; a taxi stops in front of them immediately and John opens the door for Sherlock.

“Thank you, John.” Sherlock smiles, climbing into the taxi and shuffling to the other side.

“You're welcome. So where we heading?”

“Broadhurst Gardens.” Sherlock replies distractedly, searching for his phone.

“Here.” John sighs, passing Sherlock's mobile to him. “Good job that I thought to pick it up isn't it?”

“I don't need it. I checked the text before we left.” Sherlock mutters, grabbing his mobile anyway.

John chuckles in response, looking out the window at the streets of London.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and taps out a text to Lestrade to let him know they're on their way.

x..x

John climbs out the cab first, holding the door open for Sherlock; who smiles in gratitude before walking onto the crime scene.

John follows closely behind, easily stepping in stride thanks to Sherlock's long legs.

“Ah, you made it.” Lestrade announces, greeting the pair with a smile.

“Obviously.” John replies in Sherlock's bored tone.

“Hey, Greg.” Sherlock smiles, holding a hand out for Lestrade to shake.

“John.” Lestrade smiles, shaking his hand before turning to Sherlock's form.

“Yes, well, when you've finished with all the pleasantries, I have a crime scene to work.” John replies, mentally scolding himself for having to be so cruel.

Sherlock shoots him a glare to which John replies with a beam, “Come along, John.”

“So, triple homicide, stab wounds on the bodies. _Many_ stab wounds and no traces of footprints.” Lestrade says grimly, looking at his notes.

“There won't be footprints because it rained last night. I'd say they've been dead … four to seven hours.” John replies confidently, before looking at Sherlock, “Wouldn't you agree, John?”

“Yes, well, it's obvious really. Um, rigor mortis has already set in, there's no blood in the immediate area and the mud is slippy. So definitely happened some time last night.” Sherlock replies, checking the body to make sure; he is playing the doctor after all.

John crouches next to Sherlock and whispers, “So what else have you come up with?”

“Short, brunette woman. Around forty years old. This man's the adulterer but _this_ is not who he's been sleeping with. Obvious really, as this man goes for blondes not brunettes. So I'd say, this is his assistant and this is just a poor man who happened to walk by.” Sherlock whispers back, glancing up every so often to make sure Lestrade isn't looking.

“Great. Thanks.” John replies with a small smile before relaying Sherlock's information to Lestrade.

“How the hell can you tell that?” Lestrade asks incredulously, looking over the three bodies.

John looks back to Sherlock, who gestures at the first man and his assistant's pockets.

“Their phones.” John replies, hoping he's correct.

Sherlock gives him a quizzical look before John continues, “Well, if we look at both the first man's and the woman's phones, we should find both their numbers in each other's.”

John quickly looks back to Sherlock, who smiles brightly; confirming John's theory.

John looks back to the bodies before rummaging for their phones, “Here, you see. Our first man, here is Tony and his lovely assistant is Melanie. Now, if we check the second man's phone ...” John moves over to his body and pulls out his phone before continuing, “There, no Tony or Melanie. Therefore, this man was just someone who happened to come by and witness the murder take place. You'll find the wife at … this address.” John finishes, holding up the map of the last address in the first man's phone.

“Amazing.” A voice replies, and both Lestrade and John are surprised to discover that it came from Sherlock (well, John's mouth).

“You know you do that out loud, right?” John replies with a smirk.

Sherlock just smirks back and stands up, slipping a little on the mud.

John catches him by the elbow and pulls him off the slippery mud.

“Thanks.” Sherlock smiles, finally steadying himself.

Lestrade looks at the two men for a moment before coming up with his own _wrong_ conclusion.

“Well, I best let you two get off then.” He smiles, patting John on the shoulder, “Cheers, Sherlock.”

“Yes … goodbye, Inspector.” John replies, giving him a quick smile before heading off.

As the two walk back to the road, they fall in step next to each other; clearly because John isn't used to such long legs and vice versa.

Lestrade smiles to himself before telling the other officers where to find the wife. As they start leaving, he pulls out his mobile and taps out a text.

_You owe me twenty quid_

_They're definitely a couple_

_And the case of the triple_

_homicide is solved_

_Dinner?_

_G_  

_**MESSAGE SENT** _

 

_And how did you come to_

_that conclusion? Sounds like_

_a lovely case. Sherlock helped_

_then. Dinner would be lovely_

_M_

_**MESSAGE SENT** _

 

_I have eyes remember. Mm, yeah_

_that's what I thought. But I don't_

_appreciate the sarcasm ;) Yes, he_

_did and that's also how I know. Usual_

_place? Around one?_

_G_

_**MESSAGE SENT** _

 

_We'll discuss your use of those smilie_

_things at dinner. I thought you liked_

_sarcasm. We'll also discuss the Sherlock_

_and John situation. And one will be fine,_

_usual place would be perfect also._

_M_

_**MESSAGE SENT** _

 

Lestrade smiles into his mobile, deciding to tap a quick reply before he has to head back to the office to finalise the paperwork 

x..x

Lestrade pulls up outside the restaurant and smiles. He was never the type for secret dating but with this particular person, it's a lot of fun.

“Good afternoon, Inspector.” The younger man greets with a smile.

“Myc, you know you can call me by my name, right? There's no one around.” Lestrade replies, grinning at the younger man.

“Ah, yes. Good afternoon, Gregory. How's your morning been?” Mycroft asks brightly, holding the door open to the restaurant.

“Well, aside from the happy couple's weirdness earlier, good, yeah.”

“Ah, yes. Sherlock and John. So what exactly did they _do_?” Mycroft sighs, sitting down at their table.

“Well, when I walked in their flat, they both had their hands on their hips ...”

“Oh, yes. I can see why you would assume they are an item.” Mycroft interrupts sarcastically, smiling a little.

“Shut up. Let me finish. Anyway, they say people who are in a relationship pick up each other's habits and traits. And that's one of Sherlock's. Anyway, at the crime scene, John nearly slipped on the wet mud and Sherlock actually reached out to catch him. And he didn't let go off his arm until John had found his footing. Then as they were walking off, they walked in step with each other.”

“Well, that _is_ interesting.” Mycroft replies curiously.

“Myc, I'm being serious.”

“As am I.”

“Oh, sorry.” Lestrade replies, smiling awkwardly.

“It's fine.” Mycroft smiles, reaching over to grasp Lestrade's hand.

“So ...”

“What do we do? I suggest that we approach this carefully. Try not to make it obvious that we know.”

“Yeah, of course.” Lestrade nods, squeezing his lover's hand.

“Enough talk of my brother and his blogger. This is _our_ time.” Mycroft smiles, pouring a cup of coffee for his lover before pouring one for himself.

“Thanks. And you're right. I just wish we _didn't_ have to sneak around.” Lestrade replies softly.

“I know. I just … care about Sherlock and your friendship. I wouldn't want to ruin it due to my brother's awkwardness.” Mycroft whispers, looking down at the table.

“He'll just have to deal with it. Besides John might _distract_ him enough that he won't be as … _cruel_ about it as you think.” Lestrade replies gently, rubbing a thumb across Mycroft's knuckles.

“Yes, I suppose he will.” Mycroft nods, sipping at his coffee.

x..x

“I'm sorry, I have to go Myc, work calls and all. You could come round tonight though. If you want?”

“That would be lovely, Gregory. How about eight?” Mycroft smiles softly, touching Lestrade's hand briefly.

“I'll see what I can do.” Lestrade smiles back, leaning in to kiss his lover.

Mycroft kisses back tentatively before relaxing and resting his hand on Lestrade's arm.

“Until tonight, Gregory.” He replies softly, smiling at his lover.

“Tonight.” Lestrade agrees with a smile before climbing back into his car to begin his journey back to the Yard.

x..x

“Well, I think we handled that pretty well.” John giggles, leaning against the wall.

“I agree.” Sherlock smiles, leaning against the wall next to John. “We make a good team.” He adds softly.

“Yeah, we do.” John replies, looking at Sherlock (which is still weird considering he's looking at himself).

“Tea?” Sherlock asks, heading upstairs.

“Lovely.” John replies, following him upstairs.

Sherlock heads straight to the kitchen, flicking the kettle on to boil.

“John, what you did before ...”

“What are you talking about?” John interrupts, furrowing his brow.

“When I slipped, you … reached out to catch me. Why?” Sherlock whispers, not meeting John's eyes.

“Because that's what friends do. They … _help_ each other. Like I always stop you getting killed. Or I feed you. Or how I let you invade my laptop. Well, technically _normal_ people don't allow that, neither do normal people _invade_ their friends laptops. But I know you always use it for something useful, like with cases. So I allow it.” John rambles, eyes falling to the floor as he starts to blush.

_Is that what girlfriends do? Feed you up?_

_Among other things, yeah._

Sherlock recalls their talk while on the case; A Study In Pink and a realisation dawns on him.

“John, do you … do you _fancy_ me?” He asks suddenly, staring at John.

“No, God no. Sorry that sounds cold … No, I don't _fancy_ you, Sherlock.”

“Oh, it's just, what you said. I thought … Never mind.”

“Sherlock, you're a nice guy, believe it or not, but I'm just … _not_ gay. And even if I was, you're married to your work. I wouldn't want to jeopardise that.” John replies softly, twiddling his new, long fingers.

“And what about our friendship, John?” Sherlock whispers, mentally cursing himself for coming across as vulnerable.

“I thought _you_ didn't have _friends_.” John replies, smirking widely.

“Well, I thought … I thought that _you_ were my friend.” Sherlock states softly, looking down at the floor.

“I am. You daft git, I'm messin' with ya. Of course I'm your friend, otherwise I wouldn't put up with you.” John chuckles, standing up and walking over to Sherlock; wondering whether to playfully punch him or not.

“Oh.” Sherlock replies simply, looking back up at his former body.

 _I really am_ that _tall. No wonder John strains his neck so much. It must be so difficult having to look up to me._ Sherlock thinks, then realises the possible double meaning of that last sentence.

“You alright, Sherlock?” John asks suddenly, worry showing on a sharp cheek-boned face.

“Yes, I'm fine.”

“Oh, how sweet.” A voice interrupts from the door.

“Mycroft.” Another voice snaps in a whisper.

“Oh, Mycroft. Lestrade, how nice of you to come round.” John drawls sarcastically, hoping that the two men missed the conversation.

“There's something _different_ about you, little brother.” Mycroft replies, scrutinising John.

John keeps his features schooled to Sherlock's bored come annoyed face, hoping that he's pulling it off.

“Come in, guys.” Sherlock interrupts brightly, moving away from John and sitting down on the couch.

“Hey, John.” Lestrade replies casually, sitting down on the couch next to John.

“Sherlock, you haven't answered me.” Mycroft says coldly, sitting down on the chair across from Sherlock's.

John sits down in Sherlock's chair and glares at Mycroft before replying coldly, “You didn't ask me a question, Mycroft.”

“Defensive as usual, but _different_ somehow.” Mycroft replies with a smug smirk.

“What do you want, Mycroft?” John asks, still using Sherlock's cold tone.

“I want to know what's going on.” Mycroft replies, turning his umbrella in his hand.

“I thought you'd have ...”

“Deduced it? Oh, I have, but I want to be sure.”

Sherlock sniggers from across the room, causing Mycroft to glare at him.

“Got something to say, John?” He asks coldly.

“... Maybe you should tell me, _why_ you smell like Lestrade?” Sherlock asks coldly, causing John to shoot him a look.

“So, my brother is teaching you the art of observation. I'm impressed.”

It takes everything John has, not to breathe a sigh of relief, but unfortunately, Mycroft notices this.

“What's going on?” He asks, looking back at his brother's form.

“Nothing, Mycroft. But I would also like to know why you smell like _Lestrade_?” John replies, hoping he's covering well.

Mycroft doesn't reply, just stares at John like his gaze is seeping into his soul. He smiles widely and looks back at Lestrade.

“It seems we have been mistaken, Inspector. What we thought is untrue. The reason for Sherlock's change in attitude is because he isn't _Sherlock_. He's _John_.” Mycroft announces with a smile, his eyes falling back on John.

“What? Mycroft, you've got to be joking.” Lestrade replies, giving the younger man a curious look.

“Far from it, Inspector. It seems we have a case of _body swapping_.” Mycroft continues to smile at John, “What is it like in my brother's body, John? Had any _thoughts_ yet?”

John feels Sherlock's cheeks flush from embarrassment and when he looks over at Sherlock, he can see the same on his own cheeks too.

“Mycroft, don't be daft. Body swapping is like the supernatural stuff. And even so, _why_ would Sherlock and John swap?”

“Why indeed.” Mycroft replies, before continuing, “You really should hide your gun better, John. Maybe then Sherlock wouldn't be able to shoot the wall so often.”

John looks up at this, only confirming Mycroft's theory. The older man can feel Sherlock's gaze blazing at him, almost screaming at him to stop reacting.

“So, John, _why_ would you and Sherlock swap bodies? What is the reason?”

“I don't know.” John finally replies, talking like himself despite being in Sherlock's body.

“We had a … _disagreement_.” Sherlock adds, looking up at his brother.

“About you shooting the wall in the early hours of the morning for … three, no four nights in a row.” Mycroft states, looking John's form up and down. “Obviously, the universe wanted you to _listen_ , dear brother."

“Myc, you're not _buying_ the body swapping thing, right?” Lestrade finally interrupts, looking incredulously at his lover.

“You two are dating.” John replies before Sherlock; who's surprised that it isn't a question.

“Wh … what?” Lestrade stammers, looking at John with wide eyes.

“You're dating Mycroft.” John states again, before continuing, “That's why you smell like him.”

“ _That's_ Sherlock. John would never have deduced that, no offence, mate.” Lestrade replies, patting John's form on the shoulder.

“He would have eventually.” Sherlock replies softly, looking up at John.

“You see, Inspector, _this_ is most definitely John.” Mycroft smiles, pointing at his younger brother.

“Okay, _John,_ tell me something Sherlock can't deduce.” Lestrade says smugly, trying to prove his lover wrong.

“Your wife left you.” Sherlock interrupts with a smile.

“For a woman.” John adds and smiles when he sees Sherlock's (his) eyes widen. “Never got that, did you, Sher?”

“No.” Sherlock growls bitterly.

Mycroft smirks at John, “It seems I _do_ owe you twenty pounds, Inspector.”

“Yes, _you_ do.” Lestrade grins widely, holding his hand out for payment.

“In the car, dear.” Mycroft replies, finally deciding to give up the false pretence of not-dating-Greg-Lestrade.

Sherlock makes a gagging noise from the couch, causing Lestrade to glare at him.

“Definitely Sherlock.” He sighs, looking back up at his lover.

“We will leave you two to _deal_ with this privately.” Mycroft announces, standing up from the chair. “Good day, John. I hope to see you in your _own_ body next time we meet.”

“Mycroft.” Sherlock growls in warning, leaping up from the couch.

“Good luck, John.” Mycroft smirks, walking over to his lover and kissing him softly.

Sherlock looks away, trying to hide a blush but when Mycroft looks back at him, Sherlock fixes him with a glare to try and cover it up.

Mycroft just smirks again and grabs Lestrade's hand, pulling him out of the flat.

“You alright, Sherlock?” John asks softly, looking at his friend.

“Yes.” Sherlock whispers, looking back to the floor.

“So, what do we do?” John asks, sighing tiredly.

“About what?” Sherlock asks, finally looking at John.

“Us.” John replies, standing up from his chair.

“I don't … I don't think I understand, John.”

“You never do, Sher. But, as usual, neither do I.” John sighs softly, walking over to Sherlock.

“John, what are … you doing?” Sherlock stammers as John gets closer.

“Taking a chance, I guess.” John sighs again, before leaning down to kiss Sherlock (which is weird as he's essentially kissing himself).

Sherlock stiffens as John's lips touch his own (well, the other way round really) but after a few moments he relaxes, bringing his hands up to his hips to hold John in place.

The younger man suddenly goes dizzy and feels nauseous; certain that a kiss should not feel like this.

John groans in response but it's not a sexual one; more like when he has a headache and Sherlock knows that he must have the same dizzy feeling.

A buzz seems to go through both man's heads and John's knees buckle; to which Sherlock catches him instinctively, holding him up.

“Sherlock?” John breathes, breaking the kiss.

Sherlock opens his eyes and sees John; actual John and not his own face, he smiles softly, “John. Oh, John. We're back!” He exclaims, hugging John close to him.

The older man realises that Sherlock's right; they're back in their own bodies.

John smiles widely, hugging Sherlock back; thankful he can finally look at Sherlock without it being in a mirror.

“Well, if I'd known that just kissing you would have undone this, I'd have done it earlier.” John grins, looking up at Sherlock for what feels like the first time in years.

Sherlock pulls back, ending the hug and folding his arms across his chest.

“Yes, as would I. But we're back in our own bodies now so ...”

John breaks off Sherlock's excuses with another kiss; this time it's soft and sweet, and tastes so much of John that Sherlock wants to scream.

 _It's just adrenaline, it will wear off and John will forget all about this._ Sherlock reassures himself sadly.

“No, it's not, Sher.” John says suddenly, causing Sherlock to frown in confusion. “It's not just adrenaline, Sherlock. If it was then … I wouldn't have, um, been _checking you out_ earlier.” He adds, blushing bright red and looking at the floor.

“Oh. Oh!” Sherlock exclaims, realising when John is talking about. “When you were getting changed. Well, if we're being honest … I wasn't _completely_ truthful earlier. I _wasn't_ staring but I didn't exactly _not look_ either.” He adds, also blushing at the confession.

“You … you checked _me_ out?” John asks disbelievingly, looking up at Sherlock.

“Yes. Was that a bit not good?” Sherlock replies, looking back at John.

“I … I'm not that … Well, I'm not what people would call _attractive_.” John whispers sadly.

“You are to me.” Sherlock whispers back, trying to meet John's eyes.

John allows their eyes to lock, _wow, does Sherlock have nice eyes._ The older man thinks, smiling softly.

He leans in and kisses Sherlock again, this time just soft and slow, not pushing the younger man but not wanting it to stop either.

“John, I think that … Um, I think there's a possibility that I'm, somewhat in love with you.” Sherlock says softly into John's lips.

“I think there's a possibility, that I feel the same way.” John replies, smiling sweetly at the younger man.


	3. Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just the outfits from the last chapter.

The first two are based on John and Sherlock's (minus the tie) original outfit ideas:

     

 

These are the outfits the boys decide on afterwards (again minus the tie for Sherlock):

    

 

Bear in mind, I love all these outfits but obviously the first too are totally not Sherlock and John.

So, what does everyone think ;) xxxxxx


	4. The Next Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John make decisions about their kiss from the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter guys :) may do a sequel, but not sure yet xxxxx  
> Oh, I forgot to mention, Sherlock's state of (un)dress was inspired by the REDDIT AMA and I question Ben was asked about "what he's wearing under the robe?" While I was writing this that thought kept entering my mind and so ended up in print form ;) xxxxx

“Morning, Sherlock.” John smiles brightly, still in his t-shirt and Sherlock's pyjama pants.

“Good morning, John.” Sherlock replies, looking the older man up and down.

John notices what the young man is fixated on and blushes a little, “Sorry, I … Um, I don't have any pyjamas. When I was in the army, we used to just sleep in a t-shirt and combats. I stopped wearing my combats after I came home and just slept in a t-shirt. I didn't want to … make it awkward just roaming the flat in nothing but a tee and my underwear but I really couldn't be bothered getting dressed yet so I … Um, stole some of your old pyjama pants. I hope you don't mind.” John rambles, looking down at the floor as he starts to blush.

“You're stealing my clothes now?” Sherlock asks curiously, quirking an eyebrow at the older man.

“Sorry, it was stupid. I'll go change.” John replies, not looking up before practically _running_ out the door.

“John, wait. No, John … It's fine.” Sherlock replies, jumping up off the couch.

“I get it, Sher. I overstepped the mark. I never wanted to rush you into anything. I'm sorry.” John mumbles, running into Sherlock's room.

“John … For a man with short legs, you run _fast_.” Sherlock sighs, following John into his room. "John, stop!” He shouts when he gets there, grabbing John by the shoulders to emphasis his point.

“Sherlock ...”

“John, listen. I _don't_ mind that you borrowed my old pyjama bottoms. In fact, I think it's very, _considerate_ that you didn't want to walk around half naked so that you didn't make me feel uncomfortable. And I also think that it's charming that you stole a piece of my clothing. You know that I'm not _sentimental_ , but I, you know, and if this is what _normal_ couples do then, I could … I could _try_ to do that ...” Sherlock replies, or more rambles, trying to look him in the eyes and failing.

“Sher, I think we _both_ know that there's nothing _normal_ about us. But you'd _do_ that for me? Really?” John asks softly, lifting Sherlock's face so their eyes can meet.

“I'll try.” Sherlock replies sadly, smiling awkwardly.

“So, do you want a cuppa?” John asks softly, giving a smile.

“Is that all you think about? Tea?” Sherlock asks, smirking.

“Come on.” John sighs, grabbing Sherlock's hand and pulling him back into the living room.

Sherlock's brain seems to short out at John's hand in his but he allows himself to be pulled along by the older man.

“Sit.” John commands, pushing Sherlock down onto the couch.

Sherlock sighs dramatically and lies down on the couch.

John returns a few minutes later with two cups of tea and chuckles at his new lover curled up on the couch.

 _Lover? Wow. That's going to take some time to get used to._ John thinks suddenly, shaking his head before nudging Sherlock with his foot.

“What?” Sherlock whines, face muffled by the pillow.

“I got you tea. Sit up.”

“No.”

“Fine.” John smiles, placing Sherlock's tea down on the table and lifted Sherlock's legs so he can sit down.

He places the younger man's feet back on his lap as he sips his tea. Sherlock looks up at John curiously.

“You seem very comfortable with this.” He says in an accusing tone.

“Maybe I am.” John smiles back, resting his free arm on Sherlock's legs.

“Why?”

“I don't know. I just _like_ it. It's … _nice_.” John replies softly, shrugging his shoulders.

“ _Nice_?” Sherlock asks in a disgusted tone.

“Yes, Sher. Nice. Something wrong with that?” John snaps a little.

“Not good?” Sherlock asks gently, looking guilty.

“Bit not good, yeah.” John replies, staring at the fire place and taking a gulp of his tea.

“Apologies, John. This is all new to me, I don't understand the formalities of it all.”

“I know, Sher. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped.” John says softly, stroking Sherlock's foot with his free hand.

“Mm, that's nice.” Sherlock mumbles softly, settling back down on the couch.

John smiles softly, placing his cup down on the side table so he can rub Sherlock's feet.

“God, Sher, don't you take care of yourself? Never mind, I _know_ you don't.” John comments in an exasperated tone, rubbing at the tense muscles in his lover's feet.

“Mmm.” Sherlock hums in response, snuggling further down into the couch.

“Enjoying yourself there?” John grins, looking over at his lover; who currently has his eyes closed and a soft smile on his lips.

“Obviously.” The younger man purrs, twitching his feet when John stops massaging them.

John chuckles in response before carrying on massaging Sherlock's feet.

“Is this going to be a regular occurrence then? Me massaging your feet?” John smiles to himself.

“It might.” Sherlock continues to purr, clearly enjoying himself.

“I could get used to this.” John says, more to himself than Sherlock.

“What?” Sherlock asks, having heard John.

“Hm?” John murmurs absent-mindedly.

“You could get used to _what_?” Sherlock asks again, cracking an eye open to look at John.

“This. Me and you. Sitting around in comfortable silence. You not whinging for once.” John grins, giving the younger man a wink.

Sherlock blushes bright red at the suggestion in John's eyes, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from responding without thinking.

“What's going on in that mad mind of yours, Sher?” John asks softly, tilting his head slightly.

Sherlock doesn't respond, instead he slides his feet off John's lap and sits up properly. Tentatively, he leans over into John's personal space and touches his lips to the older man's.

John stays still, allowing Sherlock to keep control of the kiss but as the younger man's hands come up to his face, John moves his hands to the younger man's waist; his fingers gripping gently.

The older man rubs soothing circles into Sherlock's hip bones; keeping the younger man relaxed and calm. It is while he's doing this that he realises Sherlock isn't wearing his pyjama bottoms; the younger man is wearing only his boxers and dressing down.

John involuntarily moans at the thought that enters his mind and he feels Sherlock smile against his lips. John drops his thumb below Sherlock's waistband, pressing down on the younger man's hip; causing him to moan and open his mouth for John. The older man decides to get revenge on Sherlock, shoving his tongue into the younger man's mouth and exploring it hungrily.

Sherlock moans again, shifting to sit in John's lap and trying to use his height to his advantage but John gets the upper hand by catching Sherlock's leg behind his own and practically throwing Sherlock onto his back on the couch.

John pins the younger man's hands above his head against the arm of the chair while he continues to explore; Sherlock moaning and twitching underneath John, trying to break free from the older man's hold. John finally slides his tongue out of Sherlock's mouth; tugging at his bottom lip as he does.

“Jawn.” Sherlock half moans/whines as John looks down at him with lustful eyes.

“You are so _beautiful_ , Sher. I don't know how I never noticed before. Just look at you, all flushed and panting. It's _gorgeous_.” John smiles softly, rubbing his nose against Sherlock's.

Sherlock's eyes flutter close and he purrs in response, pulling his hands free and resting them on John's hips.

The younger man lies there, just enjoying John's body pressed against his and John nuzzling his nose softly.

 _Sentiment_. Sherlock thinks with distaste, before pressing his lips to John's softly and thinking, _I could get used to this_.

“I'm sorry.” John whispers suddenly, his eyes suddenly sad.

“What for?” Sherlock asks softly, surprising himself.

“I was supposed to let you keep control of the kiss but I just … saw red and outright forced you into something more.”

“No apology necessary, John. I liked it. In fact, I wanted it very much. Can we do that again?” Sherlock asks hopefully.

“If you want.” John replies, a small smile gracing his features.

“I do want. Preferably somewhere more comfortable however.” Sherlock replies with a suggestive smile.

“Oh, right. Um, okay. Yours or mine?” John asks unsurely, chewing his bottom lip.

Sherlock's hand comes up to John's face to gently tug the older man's lip from behind his teeth, earning a smile from John.

“Come on then, baby. Let's go.” John says softly, standing up and pulling Sherlock up by his hand.

John leads him to his bedroom; unconsciously telling the younger man that he trusts him to be in his personal space.

“John.” Sherlock whispers unsurely, stopping outside John's door.

“Hey, it's okay. I want you to know ...”

“That you trust me, I know. But are you sure?”

“Yes. I'm sure, Sher. Now, come on.”

x..x

The two men kiss lazily until Sherlock's eyes flutter close and his breathing slows down.

 _Still not sleeping properly. Oh, Sher, you need to take better care of yourself. Like you will though._ “What am I going to do with you, Sherly? You daft git.” John says aloud, kissing the younger man's head softly, before settling down and deciding that a little extra sleep would be nice.

“I love you, John.” Sherlock murmurs in his sleep, causing John to smile softly.

"I love you too, Sherlock." John replies softly, before joining Sherlock in the world of dreams.


End file.
